The Surgeon’s Secrets

by Michelle Love

  “I did,” I say as I stop and pour myself a drink from the bar. I need something to knock the edge off my headache.

  “Text it to me, will you?” he asks with a soft voice.

  “Okay,” I say. “Talk to you later. I’m calling it a night. I’m beat.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  I put the phone back in my pocket and think about what Natasha’s mother said about the place she’d be working being a better place for her career. She was majoring in mechanical engineering with a minor in publications.

  Taking my drink and making my way to my laptop in my office, I decide I will look up companies in New York where those degrees would be of importance. That should help me figure out where to start looking for her.

  I have to find her!

  NATASHA

  James keeps his hands to himself as he sits right next to me in the back of the town car his driver is taking us to New York in. My mother was overjoyed when he told her he was very well off and had furnished the apartment he rented for me with everything I’d need. Including clothing. I didn’t need to bring a thing.

  It reminded me of what Nic had told me. Bring my body and nothing else.

  Only this bond is not a thing I can negotiate. I gave James everything to gain Nic’s freedom. I had to sign the bond in the back of his car then he made one phone call and a short time later I talked to my father on the phone. He told me someone had called in and confessed to telling lies about Nic. He was set free and then James prompted me to tell my father I wouldn’t be seeing Nic anymore.

  After that call was made, James put a leather slave collar on me along with a leash he attached to it. “Just in case you think about jumping out of the car, Natasha,” he’d said.

  The bond is brutal. He will be my master in all ways. I will have no free will at all. Even now, I cannot ask him a thing. I am to speak only when he tells me I can.

  I don’t dare disobey him or he will make sure Nic is charged with something else. I’m racking my brain with what the hell I can do. At the very least I’ll be in New York. Closer to Nic and maybe, just maybe, he’ll find me.

  In the bond agreement, I am not to have access to a phone or any other means of communication. James will oversee me when I use the computer to access my classes online. I have to wear an ankle monitor that will let him know if I try to leave the apartment.

  I will have no job at his company. I will be a secret he has. If he requires my services, he will come to me. I will be a captive. No pretending. No acting. This is all very real!

  He wants it that way. Craves it that way. And I already hate him.

  “You and I will have your initiation on Christmas Eve, Natasha. Won’t that be something?” he says as he turns his head to look at me.

  I quickly look up and meet his eyes as rule number seventeen states. I nod and he nods back. I avert my eyes again, looking at the floor.

  “I have the whole thing planned out already.” I snap my head up to look at him again. His lips part a bit as our faces are close. The back of his hand grazes my cheek. “I will not touch you until we are on that stage, Natasha. For the next three days and nights, you will be completely alone in the apartment. Then, on Christmas Eve I will come for you and take you to where our ceremony will be. Only then will you feel my whips upon your luscious flesh. Only then will you feel my cock buried inside of you.”

  “May I tell you something, Master?” I ask him with a reverent tone to my voice as rule number thirty-five states.

  “You may,” he allows.

  “I am not on any type of birth control. I know that is rule number five,” I tell him, bringing a frown to his face that I once thought of as handsome but now think of as devilish.

  “I will give you a female condom to wear for the night of the ceremony. I will send my doctor to the apartment to administer the depo shot to you in the morning. I will not take you again after the ceremony until the doctor assures me you are safe to take.”

  I nod and move my eyes to the floor again. The leather collar is tight as hell. It’s already chafing my neck and the weight of it is making my neck hurt. But I dare not speak a word about that to him.

  The man sitting next to me is the real fucking deal. Not a man who knows what the lifestyle is really about. This man is evil to his core. I can feel it oozing off him. There’s an energy around him I didn’t notice before I got into the car alone with him.

  Alone, he is anything but charming. He is demanding and in complete control. I find it nothing like the way I felt with Nic. Nic had an entirely different demeanor and effect on me. I am terrified of what this man will do to me. And he is well aware of that and seems to thrive on my fear.

  He’s tapping away on his phone then stops and sits back, putting his arm along the back of the red leather seat. “I just sent the invitations out to all of the BBC members to attend our ceremony.”

  My heart stops as I look at him and my eyes go wide. He laughs at my reaction. “But Nic...” I say then stop as he’s not asked me a thing and I’m not to speak unless he does.

  A quick slap to my right cheek has my head turned to one side as tears spring to my eyes. I look down and hold back my cries of pain. “I tolerate no breaking of any rules. Swift punishment will always be given for infractions of any kind.”

  I nod as I look at him to show him I am listening. He smiles then runs his hand over the place he slapped. “I like that shade of red on you, Slave.” He pinches the place he slapped, making it hurt even worse. “There, a purple bruise so you can remember this lesson.”

  I swallow hard to stop myself from crying. He doesn’t mind of I cry, a thing stated in the notes section of the bond. He actually encourages it. So, I am going to deny him that every fucking chance I get!

  As he holds my chin in his hand, inspecting the bruise he’s left on my face, I see a light in his eyes then I notice his pants popping up as he seems to be aroused by what he’s looking at. “Yes,” he hisses then takes my hand as he looks into my eyes and rubs his erection with my hand. “See what that does for me, Slave?”

  “Yes, Master,” I say as I look back into his eyes, scared to death he’s about to change his mind and take me now.

  “Were you on birth control or I had any condoms, I’d have you now. But I do believe it will be much sweeter if we wait until the ceremony. You will be fresh to my type of torture. You’re sure to taste sweeter with the tenderizing I will do to your pristine skin. I will eat you out as my fellow members watch us. I am not like the others. I like to hear screams when I damage your flesh and muscle. I want you to scream when I make you mine. I want it to hurt like hell. Tell me you want that too, Slave.”

  I can hardly bring myself to say such a thing then I think about Nic and do it, “I want that too, Master.”

  “Your blood will drip all over that stage. Only everyone will think it’s only an act. Only you and I will know it’s real. Every time I take you, I will make your blood run. Then I will leave you alone for a week and you will consume great amounts of iron to replenish your blood and let your wounds heal. Then I will come to torture you some more. Tell me that sounds wonderful, Slave.”

  I look him dead in the eyes and tell him, “That sounds wonderful, Master.”

  “See, you do know how to mind. That idiot, Nicholai, just didn’t know how to be a master. He is soft, that man. Perhaps you should’ve hurried to sign his bond. It would’ve saved you from me. But you dallied with the man. You let your father take you away from him, a thing that will never happen with me. If you allow anyone to attempt to take you away, it will mean even more pain for you. Tell me you understand me, Slave.”

  “I understand you, Master.” I hold his dark stare until he puts his hand on top of my head and makes me lower it.

  “I see the defiance in your eyes, Slave. It won’t last, though. I will not be taking you to the club to torture you the way I did with one of my slaves. She was taken from me by your sweet Nicholai. He tried to have me thrown out of the
club but failed miserably like he does at most things. Once our ceremony is over, I will reveal your face to the members and all will know you are mine. It should devastate your sweet Nicholai. Even if he doesn’t come, which he has been invited to, the others will tell him about it. I cannot wait. Anticipation fills my groin.” He stops rubbing my hand over his pant-covered dick and lets it go.

  I try not to gag with his words then raise my hand up so he knows I want to speak. I wait for him to nod at me then say, “The invitation doesn’t have my name on it?”

  “No,” he says as he runs one finger over the bruise on my cheek. “It merely has my club name, Pete. It states that I am making a new slave to add to my harem. Would you like to know how many slaves I have?”

  “Yes, Master,” I say.

  “Twelve,” he tells me. “You will be thirteen.”

  I nod and look down as he pushes the top of my head again. “I am tired. I must rest. Get on the floor, Slave.”

  I do as he says and get on the floor. He puts the leash that’s attached to the collar around my neck, he has a tiny padlock on, around his wrist and holds it as I get on the floor and lie in the fetal position as he closes his eyes and rests his head on the back of the seat.

  My head hurts as I try to think how the hell I’m going to get myself out of this. I have no phone. I have no way of communicating with anyone. I know the apartment will be full of security features because this man is a total freak.

  Hope is fading fast that Nic or anyone can save me from the man who holds my leash and snores, softly. My father has taught me how to defend myself, but James has way too many muscles for anything I could do to him to work.

  The only way I could stop him is a fatal blow. The heel of my hand to the brim of his nose, sending bone straight up into his brain. That would be the only way to stop him.

  But can I really kill a person?

  NICHOLAI

  My phone dings with a message from none other than James Hawthorn, inviting me to his ceremony where he’s gaining, yet another, slave. The man is insatiable. How sorry I feel for his latest victim.

  It has an RSVP request and I ponder going. It’s on Christmas Eve which is odd. But then again it might be a much-needed attention taker. God knows I need something to help me relieve some of the stress I’m feeling.

  I don’t know how in the hell Natasha is free and not calling me. It makes no sense. She knows my cell number. She gave it to Nic, so I know she does. She knows where I live and work.

  But perhaps she’s been told not to come to me or contact me, by her father. That may have been a thing he made her promise. Not a thing she did on her own.

  She is coming to New York now and should be in the city soon. I wonder if she might be thinking about seeking me out at the BBC. Where we all wear masks and she could hide in plain sight.

  The idea has me excited and I leave my office as I have a list of companies she might have been asked to intern at in a file on my desk. As I walk to my bedroom, pulling off my clothes so I can shower and change, it occurs to me that Hawthorn Publications was on that list.

  I look at his invitation again and read every single word. No name is mentioned as to who his new slave will be. Shaking off my odd feeling, I head to the room and go to the shower.

  I will wait in the club for my Natasha. Surely, she will come to me. Even if it is against her father’s will as well as my father’s, we can leave this place so we can be together in peace. I have more than enough money to last a lifetime even if I never work again.

  If her father could spirit her away, so can I!

  NATASHA

  Blood drips from my lip where James bit me instead of kissing me right before he left the apartment which will be my new prison. At least for the next three days as I know Nic will end this once James takes me out in the open for our ceremony.

  I pray he does, anyway!

  The brand James will place on the back of my neck will be real. A real, flesh burning, branding iron will be used to make sure all know I am his. He will do that at the ceremony and to say I’m terrified that will happen before Nic or somebody can save me is an understatement.

  James showed me the second bedroom he’s turned into a torture chamber. Whips line the walls. And odd contraptions fill the larger of the two bedrooms.

  The apartment is nicely furnished. The kitchen is filled with food and drinks. There are strict guidelines as to what I can consume and when. He assured me he will be checking the inventory, as he called it, to make sure I am following his rules. Punishments will result in anything he finds off in the inventory of the entire household.

  As I go to the restroom, I notice small cameras near the ceiling and find myself looking around. I find one in every single room, including the one bathroom in the apartment. Seems he’ll be watching my every move, if he so desires to.

  The urge to crumple myself into a ball and cry my eyes out is overridden by the knowledge James Hawthorn would love to see that. I have to remind myself I am doing this for Nic. With any luck at all, I’ll be rescued before any real harm comes to me and people will then know what James Hawthorn is doing to young women.

  He has more women he’s doing the same thing to. I doubt any one of them really wanted to go to this extreme of the lifestyle James’ method is loosely based on. James is in another category of BDSM, entirely. One where evil reigns and acting isn’t allowed.

  I have no idea at all what the man plans to do to me on some stage somewhere while other members of the BBC look on and think it’s all just a show. He’s told me only a few things. And those things both disgusted and terrified me to my very core.

  Closing my eyes and kneeling on the floor next to the large bed in the bedroom, I pray for someone to rescue me sooner rather than later. I need all the help I can get!

  NICHOLAI

  It’s been over a year since I’ve stepped foot in the warehouse that houses the Billionaire Bad Boy Club. The smell is dank and musty. Cigar smoke and alcohol mix with various brands of cologne and perfume to make a scent that’s not nearly as enticing as I once found it to be.

  I recall taking in a big breath when I used to walk into the dark place. Now I’m trying not to breath too deeply at all as I scan the room for her blonde hair.

  I have no idea if her father made her dye it or cut it off into some short hairstyle. I have no idea if she’s gained a ton of weight since she was stuck in a castle for over a year. I have no idea of anything. I just know she’d act nervously as this isn’t a scene she feels comfortable in.

  But all I see are women hanging onto men and their every word. No one is looking lost or seemly seeking someone out. Then Hawthorn catches my eye as he is looking right at me from behind his simple mask.

  One thin length of black leather covers his eyes. He’s easily recognizable which I find odd. He gives me a nod then leans over and nibbles on the redhead’s neck he has his arm around.

  Looking away, I wonder if that’s his newest addition to his harem of slaves. Someone should warn the poor girl that he isn’t what he seems to be. From what the woman I rescued from him said, he took the BDSM thing to a level of hell she never knew existed.

  I suppose his looks are what reels the unsuspecting females into his lair of evil. He should’ve been kicked out of the club for his actions. The thing that’s really odd about James Hawthorn is that once he makes a woman his slave, since I took that one away from him, he never brings her back into the club again.

  I know of three that no one has seen at any function or at the club again. It’s scary once you really think about it. I mean, where are they at?

  Making my way to the poker table, I pick up a drink from a passing waitress and she gives me a look of surprise. “Bill, you’re back!”

  “I am. I don’t suppose anyone has been here tonight, asking for me?” I sip my drink as my eyes can’t stop searching for Natasha.

  “No,” she says. “I’m glad to have you back. If you need anything at all you will let m
e know, won’t you?”

  “I will, thank you,” I tell her, then continue towards the poker table.

  A hand on my shoulder stops me and when I turn I am looking at James Hawthorn, face to face. “Yes?” I ask him as he moves his hand off my shoulder.

  “I sent you an invitation to which you’ve yet to respond,” he says with a certain amount of agitation I didn’t see coming.

  “That’s Christmas Eve. Though I doubt my family is doing anything, I must check with them first before I can send the message back to you,” I tell him and see a grin move over his lips.

  “I hope you come. I think it’s time you and I buried the hatchet between us. I want to move forward without you as my enemy. Don’t you want that too?” he asks as he offers me his hand.

  As I look into his eyes that are dancing with a certain amount of amusement for some reason, I reach out and shake his hand. “The past is the past. We can move on from here, James.”

  “Good,” he says then we stop shaking hands and he looks at me with a half-smile as he takes a sip of his clear drink. “It’s been over a year since I’ve seen you here. What’s so special about tonight, might I ask?”

  “I’ve had one hell of a terrible day. I need to let off some steam,” I say then take a sip of my own drink and wonder why the man suddenly wants to be friends.

  “I saw the news. But I also saw the jackass who told those lies about you had confessed, getting you off the hook. That should’ve been a huge relief to you.” He looks at me intensely then says, “But you don’t seem to have any relief showing in your tense expression. You should grab a female and beat her until you feel better.”

  “I don’t beat women,” I say then take a long drink to help rid me of the irritation the man is making rise inside of me.

  “Of course you don’t, Grimm. I meant no harm in the remark. It was a joke,” he says then looks past me. “But I am here to enjoy the women so I will see you later. I do hope you decide to attend my ceremony. It’s going to be at the Central Park Zoo. There should be fresh snow on the ground and her blood will look amazing as it drips all over it.”